


Instinct (let it lead your way)

by enterprisecat



Series: Elements [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek Into Darkness - Fandom, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Hurt Kirk, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Amanda, Mind melds, Panic Attacks, Recovery, crew as the family, mentions of Tarsus IV, post STID, they are both emotionally stunned idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enterprisecat/pseuds/enterprisecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which: Jim is broken and sneaks out, Spock commits a crime and runs away, Nyota is  badass (but no too badass  to cook), Bones is his usual self and everyone tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instinct (let it lead your way)

It goes like this: Jim wakes up from coma and smiles, drugs keeping the pain at bay, his brain still too clouded to truly grasp the idea of what happened. He falls asleep mere minutes later, smile still on his lips.

He wakes up again covered in cold sweat, still feeling the cold glass under his fingers, the way his collapsing lungs fought for yet another breath… A sudden realization puts a red alert on in his brain; Jim gasps and opens his eyes to see Spock, who is folded in one of those strange Vulcanish  position on the chair beside the bed, his PADD abandoned in favor of Jim.

“Captain?” he says questioningly. “Jim.”

“I died,” Jim says incredulously, shaking his head. “I fucking died.”

The laughter that follows doesn’t simply verge on the edge of hysterics, it jumps right over it. Leonard manages to dosage him with tranquilizer only after Spock uses his inhuman strength to hold him down. Jim sleeps for twelve hours straight after that, without dreams or even the slightest twitch of muscles.

When he opens eyes again Bones is hovering near with hypo in his hand, with Spock into background ready to spring into action. Jim’s muscles appear to be made from jelly, at least that’s how it feels, his thoughts making their routes on less than half of the usual speed, but his emotions, uncontrollably strong a couple of hours before, are playing nice.

“Hey,” he says and sees Bones relax minutely. “Not gonna make another drama, don’t worry.”

“Hope so, kid, hope so,” Leonard says, giving him a little smile but his eyes remain serious.

The news travel fast- half of the crew shows up, in bigger and smaller groups, most of them being thrown out by Bones before steeping through the door. It’s only the closest friends that actually get to see their captain but even them are dosed in small portions.

The smile Chekov gives him almost split his face in too, making Jim acutely aware how young the ensign still is. Seeing his invincible leader defeated by a broken machine must have been quite a shock. Still he and Hikaru try to be their usual mix of sensibility and lack therefore succeeding in making Jim smile for a couple of seconds. He falls asleep as soon as they leave and dreams about locked doors that won’t open no matter what he does.

Scotty visits day after Jim’s awakening.

“Captain,” he says with a feeling and attempts to give him a bear hug only to be stopped by Spock with a single eyebrow raise. The enormity of guilt in Scotty’s eyes is too much to bear with so soon making Jim feel restless and vaguely nauseous even after Scotty leaves and turns night into nightmare that results in Bones being woken up at 4 am by a terrified nurse. He almost bans visits for the rest of the week and Jim has to use his secret weapon- puppy eyes- to convince him.

Nyota kisses his cheek- Spock is for once not around to witness it- and gives him one of those beautifully fond smiles.

“Try repeating this stunt and you’ll know the true power if my wrath,” she warns and takes out a paper bag  beautifully composed lunch. It turns out to be first of many; she brings them every day, secretly she claims, but they are too healthy and too well balanced not to be Bones approved. She smiles softly and tells him to eat, which Jim does, because no matter how vitamins packed they are, every means of escape from hospital food needs to be taken under consideration. Plus the look she gives him is more than convincing not to try anything stupid, like having any leftovers on his plate.

They all try so damn hard and Jim can’t help but be awed of his team collective effort. It’s almost scary how hard they try, how much they care and want to have him fixed. Yet they can’t help the fact there’s something broken in him, as if the act of dying took away everything that made him Jim Kirk, the golden boy of Starfleet, the favorite of tabloids and torment of the Command. He feels guilty, confused and unsure, his brilliant mind terrifyingly slow. Bones keep telling him it’s because of exhaustion and the strong meds he still needs to take, an unpleasant side-effect, but Jim is not sure. His emotions runs deep, the fear too vibrant and real, too well-justified to be caused by the drugs alone. Yet he nods with understanding during Leonard’s explanations and doesn’t say anything about the frightened kid inside him that screams about deaths and injustice. His crew, his friends lived through enough to burden them even more; there this tiny part of Jim that tells him how they wouldn’t understand, as well.

With one exception- Spock. Or Jim thinks so because there is no other explanation why Spock’s presence has suddenly such a calming quality.

Spock, who still wipes the board with Jim during most of their chess matches but whose logic is sometimes his greatest enemy when Jim starts playing dirty. Spock, whose presence soothes and makes breathing easier. Spock who was affected by Jim’s death no less than anyone else, Jim knows it, but still manages to be an anchor and a miracle worker whose visit can make even Jim’s dreams a better place. Jim doesn’t know how the hell it happened and doesn’t let himself wonder about reasons and consequences, not yet. First, he’ll get a better grip of his emotions and only after that he will let himself ponder about his relationship with his first officer. Or why he seems to posses magic like abilities to say the very right thing on right time. Even when he sounds like an absolute asshole.

“Under your command died 97 people,” Spock says calmly on the third day of Jim’s conscious state, paying no attention to Leonard’s terrified and full of disbelief: ‘are you fucking crazy?!’. “The number of people you saved is approximately 5.6 times bigger.”

Jim just looks at him for a moment, in a rare state of loss of words, but then the tips of his lips turns  slightly into an almost smile, for the first time since waking up this day.

“Are you hungry, Spock? Nyota made me absolutely awesome tomato soup.”, he asks and feels how the guilt becomes a little less heavy.

Funny, how all the science fiction writers neglect  the fact how much resurrection can fuck you up. There is no easy coming back from the place of no return. Jim feels hazy, confused and scared half of time, there’s no way he’d dare to think why his first officer, dear although horribly annoying friend, managed to somehow become at least half of his world and learnt how to read his mind. Bones gives them strange looks and takes Jim to yet another brain scan- as if the deepness of his connection with Spock had to be a symptom of sickness -only to come back defeated; Jim Kirk’s recovery, while a little slow, is still miraculous and if the only person that can truly calm him after yet another nightmare is his half-Vulcan second in command, there’s nothing Leonard McCoy can do about it.

A week after his awakening from the coma he gets his first nose bleed. Spock is quietly explaining Scotty’s plans of improving the Enterprise engines as well making them safer, some of the changes undoubtedly inspired by Kirk’s many stunts, when he stops and frowns.

“Jim,” he says questioningly and very gently touches him under his nose; a butterfly touch almost imperceptible but something inside Jim makes a flip and he leans into Spock’s hand before he can’t stop himself.

“You are bleeding,” Spock informs him retreating his hand and checking the tip of the finger, barely concealed worry clear to Jim’s well-trained eyes and calls for Bones.

Jim tries very hard focusing on the fact how worrying the nose bleed is but can’t forget how right the brush of Spock’s fingers felt. It results in even longer list of examinations to be made as he appears to be a little too absent for Leonard’s liking.

After what feels like years of poking, scanning and answering to strange questions the tight line of Leonard’s mouth finally relaxes into smile.

“Looks like your capillaries are weaker than before but nothing to worry about. You’ll just need to remember to carry handkerchief around.” Bones gently touches his arm and smirks. “I’m giving you back to your favorite Vulcan.”

Jim doesn’t find it in himself to protest.

To be perfectly honest it’s when Jim lets him swallow his pride and forget about dignity. He knows he’s needy and ungrateful, when he sits too closely and touches his Spock without a sensible reason, sometimes even daring a skin to skin touch.  Yet Spock doesn’t seem to mind, despite the fact that Jim crosses all the barriers all the time. Sometimes he looks at Jim differently than before or opens his mouth only to close them without a single word. Those fleeting glances last no more than a second, so Jim convinces himself they are simply figments of his paranoid imagination. Spock talks to Jim, or stays silent, gives him more space when needed and sits on his bed, like he has done since Jim woke up, as if Kirk’s sudden growth in tactile changed nothing. Jim stifles the natural curiosity, tries very hard not to feel guilty about his behavior and mercilessly uses Spock’s amicability to his advantage.

Right until the day two weeks after Jim woke up from coma and a only a day before he gets to be released from the hospital when  Spock walks in to his room only to say goodbye.

“I need to go to New Vulcan”, he explains patiently. “There are urgent matters that has to be taken care of and while I am sorry to leave while you are still indisposed I can not wait any longer. I am sorry,” he repeats once again in unusual for a Vulcan display of very human regret.

Jim listens and nods, tries to smile only to fail horribly and has to practically force his fingers off Spock’s arm. The half-Vulcan looks at him strangely and hesitates in the doorway but finally leaves offering only a very human gesture- he waves his elegant hand. Something he must have picked from Nyota during Academy years or maybe even earlier from his mother.

Jim forcibly stops himself from laughing, one hysteria attack in two weeks being enough. The person he’s treated as his anchor and solace for the last two weeks just disappeared without giving a reasonable explanation of his action and he wonders what origins has a simple gesture.

It’s how finds him Bones, who marches into the room only to stop right by the door with a shocked expression.

“You look like a shit and please tell me you didn’t try anything stupid.”

Jim takes a quick glance at him and shakes his head. His eyes stings with unshed tears. No wonder Bones chooses to sit beside him, close enough to touch and gently pats his head. It’s such a clear reminiscence of the awful time when Jim had to write a paper about Tarsus IV and they spent a couple of nights without sleep, with Jim taking turns in talking, crying and feeling embarrassed that Jim shivers.

“Okay,” Leonard says quietly. “Spit out, kid.”

“Spock told me he’s leaving for New Vulcan for at least a month”, it’s rushed and more of a whine than anything else but Jim feels pathetic enough not to care. Beside Bones saw him in his worse more than once, the privilege of sharing a room during Academy years.

“Jim,” Leonard shifts a little closer, sighing. “I don’t know what is it between the two of you and don’t tell me nothing because the fact you’re not fucking doesn’t mean there’s nothing. When Spock is here the Jim I know is back. He leaves- you kind of disappear. He knows it too, so whatever the reason is, it must be important.”

Which is perfectly reasonable; while Jim knows Spock does indeed feel, he is still a creature raised to be logical. He dismisses the thought there shouldn’t be anything more important than Jim himself, not for Spock, not after he let Jim to touch him and touched himself and focuses on his present friend, who’s observing him carefully, clearly ready to react. A sudden wave of emotions washes over him, mostly gratitude.

 “You have no idea how happy I am you sat beside me in that shuttle and vomited all over me,” he says and waves his hand when Bones tries interrupting him. “I always thought I’m too messed up to live a normal life but then Pike happened, Academy happened and you... When I got the Enterprise I was the luckiest man alive, I felt invincible and I continued to feel like this to the moment they took her away. Then I realized how stupid I was. And this…” he gestures on the white hospital walls around them. “It’s a last straw, you know, the point of no return. I’m finally too fucked up to live.”

“Jim,” the sound is choked and Kirk doesn’t have to look to know how serious Leonard is right now. “What we did… It was never done before. We played God, all of us, created a miracle and we didn’t think about consequences, because screw consequences. I don’t care what you think should have happened, I promised myself to take care of you however I can that day you went into anaphylactic shock right in the middle of our room. Jim, kid…”

Leonard’s voice cracks, almost inaudibly, but even in his dazed state Jim catches it without a smallest problem. He has learnt to read Bones like an open book over four years ago, so he simply shifts closer to him and puts his head on Leonard’s broad arm as he used to do in Academy times during crisis.

Bones pats his head- Jim has always laughed that Leonard’s caresses for people and animals doesn’t differ in a single detail- and sighs.

“I’ll take you home today, paperwork can wait for tomorrow. Maybe your apartment will be better than a hospital room.”

Jim simply nods and if he can’t help but hope that Spock will magically appear the moment he leaves the hospital walls, he doesn’t let himself show it in any way. He focuses on his raging emotions, urging them calm; strangely enough it works.

Bones sits close to him the entire journey to his flat, apparently cataloguing all the signals of distress Jim is showing but stays silent.

The apartment, which is clean and tidy for a change- surely Leonard’s job as he likes to claim that the number of viruses in Jim’s apartment is bigger than in any given hospital- welcomes them with  delicious smell.

“Hey!” Nyota turns from the oven when Jim enters the kitchen. “You brought him home today!”

Her smile is, as always lovely enough to make Jim almost smile back. “Not want to sound rude but what the hell are you doing in my kitchen?”

He takes a long look and all the fancy kitchen equipment that came into his possession together with the whole apartment and spent over a year standing uselessly, shiny and brand new. Now almost everything bears some signs of use, a stain, a scratch which has a completely surprising effect of making breathing easier.

He flops down on one of the bar stools, uncomfortable but glamorous, observing how Nyota chops carrots, wondering vaguely what happened to his promise to never have people able to hurt him again and dismissing the thought as soon as it appears.

“Don’t even try telling me I’m too badass to be cooking,” Nyota says as soon as he opens his mouths again. “And don’t be so surprised, I’ve got only replicator in my flat and Leonard loved the idea of you eating  homemade food.”

“Thanks, by the way,” Jim says realizing that most probably he’s never said that to her. “For lunches, I mean. They almost made me fall in love with vegetables.”

“Luckily for you the pleasure was all mine,” she says and gives him another inquiring look. “ Is there a point in asking you how are you feeling? Because, frankly, you look terrible,” she checks liquid boiling in a pot and adds some strongly smelling herbs to it.

Jim considers for a moment. He’s tired but body is not a problem, not right now anyway. It’s his mind what screams for help right now- thoughts are twirling in the strangest ways, the pleasure of finally leaving hospital walls mixed with apprehension. Guilt, the old friend is lurking in the shadows but it’s weirdly harmless and what Jim feels the most strongly now is longing for Spock. Which, a little voice in head supplies, is totally inappropriate considering it’s Spock’s girlfriend standing in his kitchen.

“Why did Spock leave?” he asks before his inner censor have time to react.

Nyota turns to him quickly, frowning. “I was sure you’re the only one that knows the reason.”

“What? Why?” while Jim knows Spock can be unusually open in his company he always assumed it must be nothing compared to how he is with Nyota. She glances at him and looks down, clenching her fingers around the spoon she’s holding.

“In all honesty I thought he told you… But apparently I was wrong,” she shakes her head. “We broke up, Jim. Or rather I broke up with him when you were still in coma,” Nyota pauses and sighs. “It sounds so mean when I say it like this but... We had it coming anyway and I wanted to gave him the freedom to be with you as much as he wants.”

Jim almost chokes on his own saliva. Brave and almost merciless in the face of enemy Nyota can read people better than most of the crew, which she proved many times before. Did she notice something unusual about Jim and Spock relations or simply grew tired of being in a relationship with no perspective? Jim doesn’t know, but he whole situation becomes simultaneously less and more awkward.

Deep in his thoughts Jim realizes that Nyota left cooking behind only when she puts her arms around him to give him a quick but very strong hug.

“What did I do to deserve it?” he asks a little breathlessly when she lets him go.

“Jim. You don’t have to do anything to deserve having a friend,” she gives him another of her oh-so-lovely smiles and turns back to the oven.

The comfort of his own bed does nothing to make his dreams a calmer place; it’s his friends quiet voices what makes the trick and lets him fall asleep and does not scream too loudly that night.

***

They make a greeting party the next day or rather Bones and Nyota make as all Jim does is drying glasses and cutting limes. Which is actually more than Jim was supposed to do originally since the whole party was thought as a surprise. Bones hovers over him from time to time, theoretically to bring new glasses but in fact to check if Jim is still breathing as if the simple kitchen task could kill him any second. Jim focus lays on the simple tasks Nyota commissions him and wills himself not to think about anything else. Everything bad is temporarily forced behind a tiny door in his mind; he will be celebrating his resurrection after all so an effort must be made.

People starts flowing into his apartment about seven PM and for the millionth time in his life Jim is thankful for his great memory. It allows him welcome everyone by name, surprising some of the people and resulting in two yeoman’s tears.

Jim lets himself be hugged and patted for some time but the well known tiredness kicks in too quickly. He retreats to the couch in the living room, giving smiles to everyone.

“Keptin!” Pavel exclaims. “I brought you something my babushka always did when somebody from my family was sick.”

The dish turns out to be some kind of soup, mysteriously red and surprisingly tasty. Jim hopes as hell it won’t trigger any of his multiple allergies but the way Bones watches him like a hawk is somehow reassuring.

After that he obediently eats everything given to him and manages to sneakily drink some alcohol despite Leonard’s efforts to take every single glass not filled with simple juice away from him.

The world around him becomes blurred and slightly unreal but in the pleasant way, so he doesn’t leave his safe spot on the couch, his friends soon circling him, with Nyota using his legs as a backrest and Bones appearing in the least probable moment to deprive him of alcohol.

After few drinks Scotty loses his haunted look and is telling one funny story after another while Carol seems to be finally able to tear her, admittedly very pretty eyes, from Jim for longer than a minute as if she finally believed he wouldn’t disappear.

They all look at him from time to time, as if to reassure themselves that he’s really here, alive and breathing but it surprisingly doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. He feels strangely content, sleepy in this pleasant lazy way so he snuggles under the blanket Bones must have brought at some point and very pointedly doesn’t think about Spock’s absence.

“Toast!” Scotty exclaims at one point so Jim rises his glass out of habit, this time filled with innocent apple juice. Scotty always is the first one to make a toast and he always has the strangest ideas to what they should drink, Enterprise warp core included.

“To James Tiberius Kirk,” Scotty, says, very seriously, and Jim almost drops his glass.

“The best captain that is!” someone adds but Jim isn’t sure who, barely able to hear anything through the ringing in his ears.

The calmness he was feeling less than a minute ago is gone, replaced by sheer panic. He’s not worth any toasts. Nor is he the best captain, not even close, in fact he’s as far from being even a decent one that if he wasn’t so selfish his resignation would be considered by the Admiralty a long time ago.

The apple juice leaves a spot on the couch when he blindly puts the glass away and untangles himself from Nyota.

“Be back in sec,” he mumbles and rushes to the toilet almost tripping over Chekov’s legs on his way and he reaches the guest bathroom right in time. Another wave of nausea hits him hard, making him choke, but nothing comes out,  only leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Jim flops on the cold floor with a quiet groan.

97 people died under his command in the mission that he should never have taken. Much more people died when USS Vengeance crushed into San Francisco Bay, not to mention the sheer enormity of damages.

All of it because he was blinded with need to revenge and never stopped to think or listen to his friends.

When Nyota sits beside him he doesn’t turn around or even look at her, his gaze fixed on a little spot of dried blood from his yesterday nosebleed, still clearly visible on the light tiles.

“Hey,” Nyota says softly. “How are you feeling?”

Jim take a deep breath. “I thought Bones would follow me.”

“He wanted,” Nyota shifts a little closer. “But I’m not letting another emotionally stunned man to talk with you. Unless it is a stomach problem…”

It would be easy to  confirm, admit to drinking alcohol and blame his weakened body for everything.

“No,” Jim says and exhales deeply. “Not really.”

The realization how desperately he needs Spock to be the one sitting beside him hits him hard and unexpectedly, interfering the careful breath patterns Jim learnt back when he was a teenager. Nyota observes him carefully the whole time ready to react, communicating her acceptance without single word or touch. It’s pleasant, the silence between them easy without single trace of awkwardness but Jim needs more, his heart still beating frantically. The relief comes suddenly as if someone touched his mind and wiped out the stress; weird but Jim won’t complain.

By the time Bones comes barging into the bathroom Jim feels almost fine, the slight trembling in his hands the only sign of the sudden panic.

“Did you throw up?” Bones demands, automatically grabbing Jim’s wrist to check the pulse. “Jesus, kid,” he sighs when Jim decisively retrieves his hand and, admittedly a little unsteady, stands up.

“You left Scotty unsupervised and I really don’t want to buy a new apartment,” Jim announces and comes back to the room to curl in his place on the sofa, without paying attention to either Bones or Nyota’s protests.

But when Nyota offers her help in cleaning the apartment after the party and Bones stays to help her Jim doesn’t say a word against it. He’s too tired to help them in collecting dishes that seem to crawl all over his apartment so he slumps on the kitchen stool and thoroughly wipes off every handed to him glass. Something ugly inside him warns him from relying on other people so much; he is an adult after all, he shouldn’t feel like the quiet murmur of his friends conversation was essential to fall asleep. They will leave him like everyone else in his life did, the tiny voice supplies. He squashes it along with the desperate need of having one more person in his apartment.

The first time Jim goes for an actual walk, not the ‘we’ll use the lift and then jump into a vehicle parked right outside the door’ walk happens four days later when he sneaks out of the house while Bones is on grocery run. It’s a childish behaviour, Jim is perfectly aware of that but the need to prove to himself that a simple act of going outside is still within his abilities is too strong to be ignored.

He tires after making maybe thirty steps and thinks for a moment about giving up; it would save him from a seriously pissed off Bones and anyone who has the doubtful pleasure of meeting Leonard McCoy at his worst knows it is something to be avoid. Still, the air is fresh and sun feels warm on his face so Jim doesn’t stop, walking carefully toward the bay.

The first ruined building takes him by surprise; he did manage to read the news even though Bones tried everything to stop him, from taking away his PADD to giving him a mild sedative, but seeing the damages by own eyes is a completely different matter. He continues his walk, unable to tear his eyes away from the horrible view.

It looks much worse than Jim would ever imagine, as if some giant decided he needed to wipe out this part of the city from existence. The access to the most damaged part is closed by temporary metal barriers; flowers, candles and photos cover the ground just outside it. People are walking slowly by them, sometimes stopping by, a young woman trying to light a candle among them. She’s crying silently and her hands are shaking strongly and Jim can’t take his eyes away from her involuntarily coming closer to her. She senses him somehow as she turns to him, despair clear in her eyes.

“I told my husband to take her for a walk, she likes observing waves so much,” she says quietly tightening her hold on the candle until her knuckles turn white. “And they didn’t come back.”

The sudden cold makes Jim tremble, as if the warmness of the Sun, so pleasant just minutes ago disappeared but it’s hard to pay attention to it while seeing the woman’s broken expression. He comes even closer to her, feeling the need to comfort and protect.

“It’s their fault. Those admirals, captains,” she says it like the worst insult, “they don’t care about us, or Earth. All they want is to play their game like little kids, only instead of boards they have entire planets.”

It’s the anger and despair talking, the universal need to blame someone for the tragedy; most probably she doesn’t really believe in what she says. Jim has learnt all about it on one of the courses in the Academy. The problem is she is right- there’s an admiral and a captain to be blamed for what happened. The guilt Jim was showing down blooms again, more powerful than ever.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles. Woman looks at him in alarm, the candle in her hand suddenly forgotten.

“Did you lose someone too?” she asks gently, her brown eyes shining with unspilled tears.

“I…” Jim realizes he’s hyperventilating  and desperately tries to slow down, take a deeper breath but his lungs has other ideas. His knees give up and he sinks to the ground, vaguely aware there’s something very wrong with him.

“Hey, hey!” someone catches him. “What’s wrong?!”

“Bones will be pissed off,” Jim says which probably makes nothing to comfort people around. Dark spots dance in field of vision and he coughs, dangerously close to vomiting when all of sudden the gripping panic lessens. Carefully, testily he raises his head but even though he still feels awful the threat of losing consciousness is no longer here.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” somebody decides and Jim lets himself be manhandled to a car, too dazed and shocked by what happened to protest.

The amount of time in which Leonard and Nyota appear in the hospital is almost magical and should most probably be noted in some records holding book.

“Hey,” Jim says quietly, observing Bones pulling his rank of a starship doctor and choosing a pain killer that won’t kill Jim by causing anaphylactic shock.

Nyota gives him a look that could kill, which Jim finds frankly unfair- he has a splitting headache and his muscles suggest he run a marathon without a warm up. If Spock decided to come back to glare at him Jim wouldn’t be surprised. He would welcome it with open arms, to be perfectly honest. The unbearable guilt and pain of loss he felt on debris has lessen to the normal state of lurking around in his mind but every molecule in Jim is screaming for the soothing presence of his first.

Bones practically drags him into a cab, cursing under breath the whole time, although he takes care not to hurt Jim in any way. Nyota silently trailing their way, seemingly a little uncertain of her role, letting Leonard and Jim play it between them two.

“Did you have panic attacks before? As a child or a teenager?”, Bones demands taking no notice of the cab driver.

“You have my medical records, Bones,” Jim protests.

“No, I have the goddamn snippets you decided to left untouched when you hacked the database. So. Did you have panic attacks before?”

“I did have but they stopped,” he says unwillingly. “And I never took any drugs because of them.”

“Yeah, I reckon,” Bones snaps and pulls him out of the cab, this strange and well-known mix of gentleness and fury again.

Jim still feels a little shaky so he doesn’t protest when Leonard leads him to the couch as soon as they enter the apartment and throws the fluffiest blanket over him.

“And now you will tell me what the fuck were you thinking,” Jim sees Nyota hovering hesitantly in the background only to disappear into the kitchen. Apparently nobody will save him from Leonard’s fury.

“I wanted to take breath of a fresh air,” Jim answers with a sigh. “Without listening that I have to be careful the whole time.”

“Oh and that’s served you so well, hasn’t it?” Bones raises his voice frustrated far beyond his normal state. “I did tell you to take it easy. It’s a miracle you are alive!”

“Exactly!” Jim wants to stand but gives up, his muscles are too weak for so sudden movements. “It’s a fucking miracle I don’t deserve!”

The silence is almost complete, interrupted only by Jim’s heavy breathing. Bones seems to be frozen on the step right beside the couch, his whole body screaming how tense and stressed he is; Jim has never seen him like this, not even when he spilled about his past.

“Oh, kid,” Bones finally sits heavily beside him, not quite touching him but close enough that Jim feels the warmth of his body. He leans into it instinctively, feeling desperately lonely and hopeless. They sit in the silence for a longer moment, unable to express themselves properly.

“There was a woman there, younger than me I think,” Jim interrupts quiet as the first one. “She lost her daughter and husband, they went for a walk. There’s so many people who died because I was selfish and stupid and I wanted revenge and I am the only one that get to be saved by a miracle. Look me in the eyes and tell me it’s fair.”

The last words come out in almost incoherent rush, his voice hitting octaves unreachable for him since breaking of voice but Bones understands him anyway and puts hand on Jim’s shoulder, his grip almost painful.

“I can’t, kid. You know how unfair life is even better than I. But don’t you _dare,”_ he almost growls, “don’t you dare even for a second think that you don’t deserve to live or that you should blame himself.”

Unwanted sob escapes Jim, who puts two hands over his mouth, in a very childlike gesture; it can stop the hot tears filling his eyes  and when Bones pulls him into a hug he doesn’t find it in himself to protest. The whole crew of the Enterprise could waltz through his apartment now and Jim wouldn’t give a damn because that’s it, he reached on of the breaking points so he lets himself held tightly and listen to his friend beating heart, his quiet sobs muffled by Leonard’s chest.

 After what feels like an eternity Jim untangles himself from Bones’s arms and gives him a weak smile, dried tears on his cheeks making it even less believable.

“Don’t worry,” he pats Leonard’s shoulder in a weak attempt of reassurance. “There this stupid part of me that wants to live no matter what. Can’t get rid of it.”

Bones sighs. It’s not the impatient one, related to Jim doing something stupid, which hey, Jim is an adult no need for mothering, but the filled with worry and somehow broken one. It always makes Jim feel like the worst friend ever because Bones has lived through enough, an irresponsible, accident-prone friend is not something he needs.

 “I hope you do, Jim, I really hope you do,” Bones smoothes the wrinkles on the blanket as if unable to tear himself away from his friend. “You should take a nap, you look like hell.”

“Bones… Leonard,” Jim catches his wrist and encircles it with his fingers, surprised how much he needs a company right now. “Stay, okay?”

Jim snuggles under the blanket; the apartment feels strangely cold, almost hostile, so he closes his eyes and focuses on the pattern of Leonard’s breathing.

In his dreams Spock gently touches his head and soothes all the worries away with a single gesture of his elegant hand.

***

Days pass quickly after that, filled with strangely comforting routines: breakfast eaten in bed, not because Jim is lazy- although he totally can be even though he rarely has the chance- but because his body still has some strange objections against working properly so early. Then shower, often followed by Leonard’s half-impatient, half-worried banging to the door of the bathroom as if Jim was an old man prone to accidents under the shower. A short walk around afternoon, usually with Nyota because Bones deserves a break from the constant of Jim Kirk in his life. A dinner with whoever is free and willing and a long, filled with resting and good books evening.

It’s kind of nice, Jim admits it. Makes it easier to forget about deaths, guilt and the huge unknown of Khans’ blood in his blood stream; when you wake up to delicious smell of real coffee it’s easier not to think about tragedies in your life, no matter how ridiculous it sounds. Yet the peace and calmness it’s only a beautiful illusion, shattering more with every day as Jim grows more restless and filled with nervous energy which forces him to exercise beyond his current physical strength and irritate his friends. He doesn’t know how to stop himself from pushing too hard and saying too many harsh words. Miraculously they doesn’t seem to mind, at least not enough to leave him alone- benefits of being resurrected surely.

The fact that no matter what he does Jim can’t forget how much he misses Spock, his soothing yet irritating absence doesn’t help his mood either. Spock doesn’t answer when Jim leaves him messages; if Jim was more prone to panic he’d think Spock dead but the logical part of his brain tells him not to go crazy, at least no more than he already is. Jim wishes this part of him stopped him from being miserable and longing on the top of everything but apparently his luck has run out somewhere around his birthday. So he misses Spock, ruins his favourite civilian clothes with unexpected nose bleeds, irritates everyone around and comes back to missing Spock. With whole section of nightmares to make it more interesting.

Bones fall asleep during a day after one of Jim’s particularly rough nights; he usually can keep his horrors to himself but Leonard is far too observant to keep everything from him. The responsible and mature thing to do would be following Leonard’s footsteps and rest but Jim knows perfectly well it wouldn’t work. Evidently Nyota understand it as good as he does so she scribbles a message to Bones, leaves it on a kitchen table, and takes him to their favourite pub, the one in which they celebrated Jim being nominated as a captain. It still bears some signs from that night but luckily the owners don’t seem to mind.

“Remember how Hikaru and Pavel tried to get Spock drunk?” Jim asks when they settled down with beers in their hands in a corner, away from the biggest crowd consisting mostly Starfleet students. Spock is in his mind constantly this days, so the memory emerged as soon as they entered the pub; it happened only two weeks before Nibiru and the whole mess with Khan.

Nyota almost chokes on the beer she’s sipping. “I think they lost most of their monthly payment that evening and then you left for ten minutes and came back with this block of chocolate…”

She giggles and Jim smiles, the recollection of Spock’s astonishment clear in his mind. Of course, the half-Vulcan barely raised an eyebrow but Jim knew he was surprised and slightly impressed by his captain’s research skills- the effect chocolate has on Vulcans is not a common knowledge.  

“I think he still has this chocolate,” Nyota says when her giggles subdued finally. “Unless there is some kind of constant delivery of chocolates for him.”

Jim cleans his throat and quickly takes sip of his own beer. He was sure Nyota knew about their crazy night which resulted in one of the biggest hangovers, four most genius and interesting chess matches in Jim’s life and for still undiscovered reason a huge bruise on his left thigh. New block of chocolate found its place in Spock’s quarters shortly after.

“If anyone said to me that one day drinking a beer with Jim Kirk will be a pleasant way of spending my evening I would never believe it. Not when I was like them,” Nyota points at Academy cadets who are shouting excitedly about something and generally behave like a bunch of kids they are.

“And what about now?” Jim asks, smiling warmly to her, not at all surprised by his friend’s sudden confession.

“Now I think there are worst things in the world,” she answers and smiles back, finishing the beer in one huge gulp.

They walk back in silence, both enjoying the freshness of night air. The stars are dulled by city’s lights, practically invisible, yet Jim can’t help but look above. The New Vulcan is unseeable from the Earth but the simple act of looking at the sky has soothing effect. Spock is there, far away but still reachable in one way or another.

Which, wait. It’s actually pretty easy.

Jim stops dead in his track, wondering vaguely why the hell he didn’t think about it earlier. The ties between Vulcans and Humans while weakened in the effect of Nero’s action are still pretty tight and many civilians travel from one planet to other, using civilian form of transport.

“Jim?” Nyota asks worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jim takes a deep and measured breath to calm down and hide his sudden excitement. “I am.” 

The next couple of days Bones spends looking at him with an air of suspicion. While since Academy years Jim has become much more bearable patient, he is still awful in comparison to average human being. Yes, instead of hiding in the darkest corner of his cabin he’d reluctantly go to the sickbay and try to dismiss the importance of whatever is wrong with him this time but the amount of complains and whining is still intolerable.

However, right now Jim is a model patient; he lets Bones stab him with various hypos, reports every accident of worse disposition and eats healthy food, without complaining about the not enough amount of red meat and absolute lack of beer since his little trip to pub with Nyota.

“Figured out it’d be better to actually listen to you for once,” he says when Leonard confronts him about his unusual behaviour. “I’m tired of being ill.”

Bones can’t argue with this kind of logic but still gives him incredulous looks from time to time as if he wanted to ask: who are you and what have you done to Jim Kirk?

Buying a ticket to New Vulcan turns out to be even easier than Jim has imagined. A Starfleet rank, the name of a hero and money- it could buy him much more than a trip to another planet, especially planet so closely tied with Earth. Within half an hour the flight is booked and ticket bought, right before Bones appears, takes the PADD away from Jim and tells him to go the fuck to sleep if he’s being so sensible all of sudden.

Sneaking out of the apartment brings the same rush of excitement as it did in Jim’s childhood. Maybe Bones isn’t wrong when he claims Jim to be the oldest child in the whole universe. With only a small duffel bag on his arm- no time for extensive packing- and his favourite leather jacket as a lucky charm Jim uses the public transport to get to the space airport.

By the time he gets to his destination his body is protesting against being used in such extensive manner and begs him for a moment of rest. Thankfully the queue is short- apparently the middle of the day is not a favourite time of departure for many. He silently thanks for the lack of second glances- as much as Jim likes being in the centre of attention having strange people and various other sentient species attention wouldn’t be welcomed right now. The interior, with its long lines of leather sits and general lack of space bears no resemblance to his beloved Enterprise. Jim shivers, despite the perfectly adequate temperature. The first and last time he travelled in such a spaceship happened over fourteen years ago and ended in witnessing deaths of thousands of people.

Jim gives himself a mental kick and goes to find his seat. Located near the end of the cabin, which should provide him more privacy and peace. A red-haired girl starts talking about escape pod and spacesuits, her voice filled with enthusiasm. 

Jim shifts his seat to more comfortable setting and closes his eyes choosing to believe that he knows more about safety protocols in the unlikely event of cruise line starship’s failure than all the stewardesses and stewards together. Sleep claims him surprisingly fast, his body wanting to regenerate as fast as it can, a sleeping pill he acquired from Leonard’s private stock helping.

“Sir?” someone is gently touching his arm after what feels like a couple of minutes and Jim forces down the instinctual response to flinch away from it. Instead he opens his eyes the red-haired girl from earlier,  visibly worried.

“Oh!” she exclaims seeing his opened eyes. “You are awake, how lucky, there’s only a Vulcan medic here, or should I say healer? And I wasn’t…”

“I’m fine,” Jim interrupts here, afraid that once in motion the flow of words will never end, she seems like the talkative type. In all honesty he feels beyond shitty, his whole body stiff from maintaining the same position for the whole journey. Standing up awakes a wave of dizziness but thankfully the over chatty girl doesn’t notice how carefully he moves; he hates when strange people worries about his health.

The heat welcomes him as soon as he gets outside; the main building of the airport is no more than twenty meters away but by the time he enters it he’s sweating and has slight problems with navigating his way through the crowd. A bench, or at least something highly resembling a bench, turns out to be his salvation; he slumps on it, vaguely wondering if he looks drunk and imagines the titles in tabloid magazines only to realize there’s something wrong with him indeed. After all there are no tabloid magazines on Vulcan. He closes his eyes, desperately willing his body to get its shit together.

“I knew it!” somebody almost shrieks, her voice way too loud for his aching head.

It’s the stewardess again and Jim vaguely wonders if it’s the price of his sin of leaving his friends without a word.

 “I’ll find someone, just wait for a second and don’t… Oh my god, is it blood?!”

Huh? Blood?

Before Jim realizes it’s another one of his nose bleeds, he’s being swept out from the common area to a first aid room. A strict looking Vulcan female raises one eyebrow and quickly takes scans with a tricorder, careful not to touch him skin to skin.

“I assume you are visiting someone, captain Kirk” she says finally while looking at Jim’s results with something akin to disgust. If Vulcans were capable of expressing disgust, of course.

“Yes,” Jim croaks and how this Vulcan knows his name anyway? “How do you know who I am?”

The Vulcan this time raises both eyebrows and Jim can’t help but think she is wondering how someone so stupid and slow could help in destroying Nero. She is clearly waiting for the answer for her question so Jim gives up.

“I’ve come to see Spock, the son of ambassador Sarek.”

“I will inform him of your arrival,” the Vulcan says and leaves the room before Jim has a chance to say anything. Which well, kinds of ruins Jim’s plans but when his balance is still tilting slightly to left and breathing is hard because of dried blood in his nose the prospect of searching for Spock and surprising him suddenly loses its appeal.

“Commander Spock will be here in approximately thirty minutes,” the Vulcan informs him a couple of minutes later. “I advise you to lay down in the meantime. While I am not able to help you in your recovery, you should rest as much as possible. Space travel was a risky decision and now your body is suffering from it.”

“Thank you,” Jim says fully aware his thanks will be dismissed as unnecessary. “Can I ask for your name? You clearly know mine…”

“I am T’Les. Now rest, captain Kirk.”

He obediently lays back, observing T’Les under eyelashes. The longer he looks at her, the younger she seems to be, the first impression caused by her rigid posture and tightly tied hair. Her accent in Standard is impeccable, indicating she might had spent some time of other Federation planet. Maybe that’s how she survived the destruction of Vulcan-that-was. Jim forcefully tears himself out of those thoughts.

As it turns out Spock’s usually admirable skills of estimating are slightly off- he arrives ten minutes late but any teasing words from Jim are silenced by Spock’s appearance.

His always impeccable and thoroughly Vulcan hairstyle is gone; his fringe is wild, disheveled and surprisingly sexy. Instead of science blue or a traditional Vulcan robe he’s wearing black Starfleet regulation undershirt and pants. It makes him look utterly human, especially in comparison to a very Vulcan T’Les and when he gives Jim a displeased look over the healer arm Kirk can’t help but wonder why he has ever thought Spock to be expressionless.

“Captain,” Spock’s baritone has the same soothing effect as always; Jim feels more relaxed the moment he hears it, despite the obvious discomfort Spock is practically broadcasting. “It appears we have to talk.”

“Yeah,” Jim agrees and takes the offered hand to stand up. He very pointedly doesn’t look at T’Les, fully aware how intimate this gesture is among Vulcans. “I was kind of hoping for something more private, though…”

Spock raises one eyebrow, just the tiniest bit, but Jim knows it’s his way of communicating how ridiculous Jim is being right now.

They exchange farewells with T’Les and soon  Jim is walking side by side with Spock. It’s not an easy thing in the multispecies crowd but Spock seem to be determined not to lose Jim from his sight and frankly speaking Jim is thankful for that.

“So,” Jim says when they finally reach their transportation and he is almost certain he won’t faint in the closest future, the interior pleasantly cool and fresh in comparison. “Where are we going?”

“To my house.” Spock answers, seemingly calmly but there is this undertone of irritation Jim has learnt to notice a couple of hours into his cooperation during the Narada accident.

“What?” he says in astonishment, for a moment his not so great condition all forgotten. “You have a house here? Why?”

“Jim, you have an apartment back on Earth,” Spock says and Jim is almost sure that the usage of his first name is not coincidental.

“But so do you!” he protests fervently, unable to wrap his mind around the idea of Spock living constantly on a planet other than Earth. “I’ve been there in case you’ve forgotten, countless times,  it’s like two streets way from mine place!”

“In addition to your apartment in San Francisco you are the owner of an old farmhouse in Riverside, Iowa,” Spock continues unhurriedly.  

“It’s a family house!” Jim feels his heart bitten faster which is really kind of stupid; if Spock wants to have a second house it’s his business, no need to get so upset about it. “It belongs to my family since, I don’t know, something like forever!”

“Jim. My family house has been destroyed.”

Oh. The anger leaves instantly, leaving behind the bitter taste of feeling like a complete asshole.

“I…” he tries bust Spock stops him.

“No apologies are necessary. Now, T’Les informed me you need to rest and that you should see a healer to check your results in the next five days. I…” Spock hesitates, a rare situation. “I will seek for a an appointment with our best healer,” he finishes but Jim is sure it’s not how the sentence was supposed to end originally. He leans back in his chair, feeling the warmth of a sun on his cheek, too tired to inquire.

Spock’s house is hidden from the looks of curious strangers by a thick bush of some strange although quite beautiful plants. Not that you would find a lot of curious strangers on Vulcan colony, at least Jim thinks so. The house itself is both everything Jim could expect and nothing of it. Built from a traditional Vulcan materials it preserves customary coloring but the design it’s nothing but human. Very modern and elegant but homely in the same time, in this rare way that make you feel peaceful and safe, its line simple and welcoming.

“Wow,” Jim gasps in true awe. “This place is amazing!”

“Come inside,” Spock holds the door waiting for Jim to enter first. “The guest room with bathroom is on the first floor, first door on the right. You should rest while I prepare something to eat and we will take about the reason of your journey here later.”

As much as Jim wants to protest in his usual manner he’s too tired to do so. The dizziness from before is mostly gone, leaving behind bones deep exhausting so he only nods and obediently climbs up the stairs. The guest room is clearly prepared for humans, furnished similarly to Jim’s own bedroom only a lot cleaner and more elegant. He makes a mental note to think about it later and throws himself on the bed, not bothering to undress. Sleep claims him almost immediately.

Waking up it’s harder than it should considering he slept through the whole journey but this time it’s the feel of comfort what stops him from opening eyes. The woolen blanket covering him is a surprise; Jim doesn’t remember having it when he was falling asleep.   

The guest room truly bears a striking resemblance to his bedroom. Even the color palette is similar- as if Spock memorized all the details during one of his visits and then slightly changed the style making the whole design so much nicer to eyes.

The bathroom seems to be more Vulcanish, but thankfully there is a normal shower installed. Jim very pointedly doesn’t think about the New Vulcan climate and lack of regular rains, and takes a long and relaxing shower,  surprising himself by humming under nose the whole time.

When he goes downstairs Spock, true to his words, is standing in the kitchen cutting something almost furiously using a dangerously looking knife.

“Hey, Spock, “ Jim says and sits on the kitchen table, looking around curiously. A couple of wooden ornaments hang from the walls, the room itself almost empty save for eight seats table, traditional Vulcan stove and three cabinets on which countertops Spock arranged the numerous ingredients of whatever dish he is preparing.  

„Captain, how are you feeling after the rest?” the half-Vulcan asks, focusing on cutting vegetables as if they were the most important object in the history of universe.

“It’s Jim,” Jim reminds, jumps off the table and comes a little closer to Spock to take a better look of the strange vegetables he’s cutting. “I’m feeling fine, really. Don’t remember the last time I felt that good.”

“I find it hard to believe as all the parameters that make this planet a perfect place for a Vulcan colony can have unhealthy effects on human beings. Especially when said human being is still recovering.”

“Nah. And don’t call me a liar,” after a moment of hesitation Jim steals a tiny bit of brightly red vegetable. It’s surprisingly sweet and practically melts on Jim’s tongue. “Mmm, that’s good! What is that?”

“Jim,” Spock finally puts away the knife and looks at him. “I was informed there is a visitor awaiting for me and I found you in a state indicating that your health is still compromised.”

“I get dizzy sometimes, okay. And I tire easily and don’t even mention this nosebleed but I died, remember? Besides, Bones let me out from hospital and that’s saying something.” Jim can’t help but take a defiant posture. He knows all too well how unreliable his body still is, no need for additional reminders. He licks his lips, Spock’s eyes following the movement for a second before looking away.  

 “I can assure you that your death is not something I could forget, captain,” Spock says coldly and turns back to the vegetables. “I am simply expressing my uncertainty and stating facts.”

Bones must have send Spock a message Jim decides, probably very frantic, furious, consisting a couple of threats and thirty pages explanation why Jim shouldn’t  stay in a close proximity to spaceships. He probably should be thankful that Spock isn’t trying to put him on the earliest available flight back to Earth.

 “Yeah, you are always stating facts,” Jim deflates, but he there’s no real anger in his voice. “It’s exhausting, you know. I generally feel fine and then my body decides I wasn’t careful enough or my mind recalls something all of sudden and I turn into a hot mess. Again.”

The confession comes out of his mouth without a conscious decision, words hanging in the air; a clear reminder than even though right now Jim feels fine, it can, and most probably change, in the nearest future.

 “Captain,” Spock turns to him again, ready to say something polite but meaningless but Jim has already maneuvered himself right into Spock’s personal space. His breathing is too fast , his eyes shining almost feverishly. It seems his brain decided to temporarily shut down, his behavior relying entirely upon instincts. And those are telling him that angry Spock is sexy as hell.

“Nyota told me you are no longer a couple,” Jim murmurs shifting minutely closer, the space between almost nonexistent. “Is that why you left?”

“No,” Spock swallows, Jim’s eyes following the movement and then coming back to his lips for a shortest moment before he rushes into action.

Spock’s lips are soft, softer than Jim could ever imagine but there’s no time to analyze them as Spock’s tongue seeks entrance. He opens his mouth with a gasp, suddenly dizzy again but eager to explore, the hotness and surprising dryness of Spock’s mouth, the slightly different structure of his tongue… Jim blindly searches for Spock’s hand, grasping the slick, covered in juice fingers in attempt of Vulcan kiss.

Spock gasps, breaks the kiss and steps away, breathing hard.

He is disheveled, hairs sticking out in very weird angles, lips angry red and wet, so very, very human and Jim wants to kiss him again and then take him to the guest room or maybe stay in the kitchen and make use of this huge table…

“Captain. Jim,” Spock’s voice is raw and easily breaks through images created by Jim’s imagination. He takes a step back suddenly aware of what he did; he kissed his first officer, his subordinate, his friend who’s now staring at him with wide eyes.

“Fuck,” Jim says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should never… Let me find a flight back and I’ll disappear just come back when is time, don’t be angry.”

He’s bubbling, words escaping his mouth without any control but it doesn’t matter because he made a step without thinking about consequences and the weird expression in Spock’s eyes that must be hurt is the price of it. The wonderful mood vanishes, reality crushing mercilessly the thin walls Jim managed to create.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats hopelessly and closes his eyes awaiting for the verdict; will Spock throw him out right away or will he let him book a return ticket?

Yet Spock does neither; he simply stands for a little longer, not really looking at Jim and then turns away, with clear intention of leaving.

Something inside Jim snaps; it’s ugly and turns the hopelessness into sudden anger.

“Say something,” he says almost angrily. “I know I shouldn’t have kissed you but you keep on leaving like that! In the hospital, Bones told me you practically lived there when I was in coma and I woke up… And then you run away and I want to know, need to know what you want so we could cooperate!”

Spock seems to be frozen to his spot a couple of steps away from Jim, for the very first time in Jim’s experience utterly lost and unsure, his dark brown eyes almost pleading for mercy. It lessens Jim’s anger, makes him take two careful steps closer to the Vulcan.

“Spock, just say something. Please.”

“Jim,”, Spock’s voice is hoarse with unhidden emotions which scares Jim with its unusualness. “I have a confession to make. I have done a terrible thing and while it was not intentional I am the one to blame.”

Jim blinks; surely someone would have noticed if Spock committed a crime and informed him about it, wouldn’t they? He doesn’t ask any questions, though, because Spock reaches with his hand but retreats before he gets to touch Jim.

“I created a bond which links our minds to each other,” the Vulcan continues quietly, looking down, hands clenched into fists on his sides.

Oh. As mysterious as the Vulcan race is the issue of bonds is quite well known among other species; Jim himself had a short but rather intensive period when he read everything about bonding; utterly fascinated by an idea of creating a deeper connection between lovers, as well as scared by it.

“It is one of the greats crimes a Vulcan can commit- creating a bond without the knowledge and permission of the second part is an act of such disregard toward another being that it can not be forgiven.”

“How did it happen?” Jim asks, interrupting the speech, deciding that he’ll analyze his emotions later, now he needs facts and explanations to make sense of what is happening. “Don’t you have like whole bonding ceremony?”

Spock falters; Jim isn’t sure what reaction he expected but surely a more emotional response rather than this calmly asked questions.

“It is a matter of tradition rather than necessity,” he explains obediently but his eyes don’t lose the hunted look. “Jim…”

Here goes the uncharacteristic reluctance again and Jim realizes there is more to come, his heart clenching painfully.

“The emotional transference through the bond is strong,” Spock says, odd hopelessness in his voice. “I have felt your suffering, Jim, and while I should I did not stop myself from reaching to you and interfering.”

Everything abruptly clicks into place; how the seemingly uncontrollable emotions would retreat instead of attacking even harder, how Spock created the impression of a mind reader in the most literal sense, always knowing when Jim’s mood shifted into dark places…

“You rummaged in my mind?!” the use of past tense comes naturally as if he can be sure Spock isn’t his mind the very second.  “I,” Jim pauses; he suddenly feels tired and stiff, unsure what to say and how to react. “I need to sit down,” he says simply and passes by Spock to the living room, without checking if the half-Vulcan follows him. He sits heavily on the closest surface, trying to control his breathing and feel of being cornered.

“I don’t know what to do,” he says as soon as Spock appears in the entrance. “I need to think, okay?”

He looks at Spock, hoping that Vulcan will understand how confused Jim is right now; it’s not anger he feels nor hurt but there are emotions that have to be named and catalogued and for that time is required. Frankly, there is this small part of him insisting on running away, preferably while screaming with fear on the top of his lungs, but Jim stifles it ruthlessly.

He won’t escape.

Mercifully Spock doesn’t look as if he wanted to flee any moment soon too; he even crosses the room to stand close to the window and not far from Jim himself, his posture more rigid than usually, movements carefully measured as if Jim was a spooked animal.  

“Do you require anything?”, he asks, sounding as formal as on the very beginning of their friendship.

“Time, I guess? And I should comm  Bones, I wanted to that as soon as I landed here but it didn’t work out as I planned,” Jim explains, suddenly aware that he left two of his best friends hanging, uncertain of his fate. “Shit, I really fucked this up.”

There is a minimal twitch of Spock’s lips, the one that always accompanies Jim’s swearing; he only realized the meaning of this tiny gesture after a couple of months of his captaincy.

“I notified doctor McCoy and lieutenant Uhura of your whereabouts as soon as I was apprised about your arrival,” Spock offers immediately and then hesitates. “Is there anything else you need, Jim?”

“I just need to breathe, okay?” Jim stands up tiredly and gently pats Spock’s arm on his way, a simple gesture but full of meaning, especially when it comes to Vulcans.

The next couple of days are weird. He tries to tune out the presence of Spock, which turns out to be strangely easy. The half-Vulcan is there, but caught by the corner of the eye rather than on the center of the stage; it’s hard to decide if it’s how living with a Vulcan looks like or Spock simply tries to be as subtle and intruding as he is able to be but Jim appreciates the peace he gets either way. He really needs to take a breath, stop for a moment and truly think about what he wants and what he can have. At least the ever longing for his first officer is dulled, more like after effects of a bad headache rather than an appendicitis, making it easier to focus.  

He comms Bones and has the presence of mind to look sheepish but his friend is past the stage of being angry. He simply sighs and shakes his head and claims he always hoped that from the possible scenarios Jim wouldn’t chose this one. Nyota in the background yells something about insufferable bastards.

The question of whether Bones meant travelling through space while being unfitted to do so or falling in love with Spock remains unanswered.

He makes the use of his PADD and Spock’s computer, searching, reading and cross-referencing everything about Vulcan’s mating rituals and bonds, unable to stop himself, once again finding them utterly fascinating. He thanks fate for his language skills and Uhura’s insistence of learning Vulcan- that way he’s able to read most of the texts, using dictionary only time to time until on the third day he is stopped by a single word.  There’s some kind of a hidden meaning behind it, Jim is sure of that but he can’t grasp it.

But he knows a person, who is able to help.

Mornings are much more  bearable -even in his still weakened state -so he makes a use of it, choosing it as a time for travelling. The time of the day is entirely inappropriate for social visits but Jim doesn’t care, focused on getting to his destination in one piece and without wandering around for too long. The mere thought of walking in the afternoon sun makes his skin crawl.

The agglomeration of detached houses is a small one, as most Vulcans chooses to live in buildings resembling skyscrapers in height; so Jim has no problems in finding the address he got a couple of months ago.

He stands for a moment, contemplating the alien design, trying to find any traces of human influences in it only to find none. The house, unlike the owner of it, bears no resemblance to anything but Vulcan. The garden, though, is an entirely different matter. Pale yellow and deep red roses are boasting, appearing peculiarly alien among native vegetation.

“Jim,” Kirk turns quickly at the sound of familiar voice, already smiling, offering his slightly crooked version of Vulcan salute.

“I was afraid I’d wake up, ” he says, quickly taking in the way Spock Prime seems much older than the last time they saw each other, the fine line on his face more pronounced, hair greyer. “And hello.”

Spock gives him this not quite a smile, simultaneously similar and very different to younger Spock’s version of this expression. It soothes the wrinkles, resulting in making him look younger a couple of years.

“I will prepare tea and I can assure you this one you will find drinkable,” he promises, opens the door and leads Jim into the kitchen. The is rather empty, devoid almost entirely of any ornaments, except for two wooden hanging on the wall opposite the window. Jim takes a look at them and flops on the chair, hoping he doesn’t seem too tired for such an early time of day.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me here,” he says conversationally, wondering if the old half-Vulcan is simply hardest to read than his Spock or the news of his arrival already made the front page or its Vulcan equivalent.

“News travel first, my dear friend and your arrival did not go unnoticed,” Spock confirms the following suspicion and hands him a small cup filled with reddish liquid, its smell surprisingly nice, while strong and herbal.

Jim takes a sip of it, the taste peculiar but strangely pleasant. “Are you trying to say that Vulcans gossip?”

Spock offers him the lightest twitch of lips and sits beside him. “I am merely suggesting that your arrival did not go unnoticed.”

“Yeah,” Jim snorts. “You totally gossip.”

“Are you well?” Spock asks, his voice gentle. “Doctor McCoy keeps me informed about your health but he did not approve this journey. He called you, I quote batshit crazy, to be precise. ”

Jim shrugs. “It’s a little bit like Russian roulette, you know? One day I feel fine, another one like crap but Bones says I’ll get better soon and I know he’s telling the truth. Besides, I can’t really complain, can I? And how are you?” he changes the topic quickly, both uneasy with speaking about his health and worried by the older Spock’s appearance.

“I am fine, Jim,” Spock offers, his tone suggesting he is too uncomfortable with this topic. “As grateful I am for your visit I know its reason is not a social one, not entirely. You have questions.”

Once again Jim is surprised by how well this old Spock reads him, catches the smallest signs of impatience and nervousness in his gestures.

“I did want to see you,” he says truthfully. “But yeah, I have questions too and some doubts, I guess.”

“Is my counterpart unable to address those doubts?”

Jim shakes his head slowly. “There are… some reasons why I came to you.”

“Very well, then, my friend,” Spock’s quiet acceptance soothes Jim’s nerves, lets him relax a little and take another sip of the tea which is truly remarkably tasty for a Vulcan drink.

“I’ve come because well… I tried to find the translation but I’m not sure if I’m grasping the true meaning, it feels like I’m losing something. What does t’hy’la means?” he rushes the words, afraid that any longer wait will stop him from speaking altogether.

Spock stiffens, his emotional response alarmingly human, while fleeting; he relaxes almost the same second, his expression carefully blank.

“It means brother, friend, lover,” the slight hoariness of his voice the only sign of emotions. “in the form of one person. T’hy’la is the greatest gift one can receive, Jim. A t’hy’la bond is a rare one and it should be cherished and nursed.”

Jim shifts uneasily, his heart beating in an alarming rate. “When such a bond is created, can you shield against it?”

“Partially, yes,” Spock answers, his eyes suddenly light years away from the kitchen they are sitting in. “Yet the particularly strong emotional transference can not be avoided completely. The deepness of such a bond goes beyond any other form of connection.”

“And it goes both ways, right?” Jim swallows nervously, the territory he is stepping on dangerous like a mine field. “Both people should feel each other emotions and other things?”

“It is true in a case of two telepathic creatures being bonded. Assuming it would be created between Vulcan and psi-null being, such as human, then without a proper guidance human could be unable to detect or use it.”

“So I…” Jim stops himself but this little misstep surely confirms all Spock’s suspicions. “So this potential human could start feeling his bond mate after some training?”

“Yes, Jim,” Spock confirms. “All that is required is a mind meld.”

“Do you…” Jim pauses, unsure how to voice his last question, of his rights to ask it at all but wanting to know the answer anyway. Once again Spock understands the intention in unspoken words and shakes his head slightly.

“It is my greatest regret of my life,” he says quietly. “And that is why I am asking you, Jim, not to act hastily. You still have time, but use it wisely.”

There’s a lump in Jim’s throats so he clears it and shakes his head, distrusting his ability say anything at the moment.

His return to Spock’s house bears no similarity to the peaceful calmness of the morning ride; the heat is overwhelming, making him sweat and stand out even more among the perfectly composed Vulcans. He can’t help but think he’s broadcasting his emotions everywhere, causing the little society of the New Vulcan to ask themselves who is this weir human being. When he finally reaches the house the only thing he dreams about is a long, cold shower and the whole afternoon spend on nothing but laying on a bed.

“Jim!” a familiar voice once again stops him when walks toward the house; his Spock is approaching him quickly, his calmness yet again in shreds. He reaches toward him, aborting the movement in half, instead giving Jim a long look over, undoubtedly noticing his weariness.

“Hey,” he says warily, realizing it’s the first word he’s spoken to Spock in a couple of days. “I went out to see the other Spock, should have told you. Sorry.”

Spock hesitates for a blink of an eye. “It is fine.”

They enter the house together, the silence between them filled with tension, so Jim excuse himself quickly and indeed  spends the afternoon laying on his bed, unable to forget the horrible sadness he saw in the other Spock’s eyes when he almost asked if he bonded with the other Jim. The longer he lays there, restless the more curious of the feeling of touching another mind with his own he is. It is the greatest form of intimacy, Jim is convinced of it, no physical act can compare to it. What scares Jim is how much he want to give it a try with Spock. He feels asleep,  for the first time since waking up from the coma not dreaming about deaths or falling, but about wires linking him to Spock.

He wakes up in the evening and goes to find the half-Vulcan, to discover him checking some schematics Scotty sent them both two days ago; Jim barely took a look at them and saved for a later inspection. His heart is beating fast when he comes closer, still unsure how to play this game out.

“Care for a walk?” he asks without preamble. Spock looks at him intently and puts away the PADD, a little too hastily, the device almost slipping from the table.

“Yes,” the Vulcan says simply.

It’s Jim who leads the way. The sole under his feet is yellowish brown baring no resemblance to the redness of the planet that disappeared almost in front of his eyes. The vegetation is richer as well; short trees and grayish colored bush covering most of the space around Spock’s home.

“You built it far from the rest,” Jim observes, once again noticing how solitary Spock’s house is. “Any particular reason?”

Spock makes this tiniest gesture that Jim always has treated as a Vulcan equivalent of shrugging.

“When I acquired this place I did not think I would spend much time here, not in the nearest future,” he confesses. “I chose to treat it as the place of retirement.”

Jim takes a deep, measured breath, the warm wind pleasantly tickling his bare arms.

“And what’s up with this human design?” He picks up deeply colored flower, its violet petals strangely fluffy and takes a good look at it. Sometime between saving civilizations he forgot that the primary function of Starfleet is to discover and observe, catalogue and name. It would feel good to do it again.

“My mother had a rose garden,” Spock says, seemingly nonsensically but Jim waits patiently for the rest of his story; there is always some meaning behind Vulcan’s words. “She cared for it deeply enough that despite the unfavorable weather conditions not a single flower had ever wilted.  As a child I was confused by the tender way she looked after it. It was only when I grow up I realized that  despite her claims she missed Earth dearly. While choosing the design of my house I let myself listen to my instinct. The building you saw is the final product of that choice.”

Jim lets the flower drop to the ground, suddenly realizing what he should do, what he really feels and wants.

He should simply follows his instinct.

“Jim? Are you unwell?” Spock asks instantly, unaware that that Jim just had his private eureka moment.

“Spock, I’m not angry, or disgusted or anything you imagined I would be,” he says hurriedly. “The truth is I’m happy.”

 “Wait,” he says seeing that Spock opens his mouth. “I did some research the last couple of days, just to be sure and I know it’s not like you could bonded like this with anyone. It might be unintentional but not accidental, not really and it’s scary as hell but I’m happy. I have no idea how are we supposed to make it word but right now…”

He come closer to Spock and takes his hand putting it against his face to the places he remembers from the ice cave on Delta Vega.

“I know you could probably stop shielding to check if I’m telling the truth but honestly I’d rather to have it like this so I could, you know… Feel you as well.” he can’t help but chuckle nervously, the incredulity on Spock’s face crystal clear although fading mere seconds later.

The touch of his fingertips is warm on Jim’s face, like a touch of the Sun and Jim can’t stifle the urge to grin.

“Do it,” he says decisively and Spock nods his eyes wide and expressive.

“Yes, t’hy’la,” he says, the outside world suddenly fading in rush of colors and emotions but Jim’s last shreds of doubt are forgotten.

It’s, after all, exactly as it should be.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story wanted to be written practically since I left the cinema back in May, it took its first shape in September only to be finished a couple of months later. I let myself mix up everything fanon and canon about Vulcan bonds plus add something more and write about Nyota/Jim friendship because I just love their relationship.  
> No beta helped me with writing so all my mistakes are mine (and sorry for instisting on writing in language that is not my native one. Although in Polish I'd most probably make even more mistakes).  
> Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
